


Maybe Weird, Maybe Not

by keylore



Category: Close Your Eyes (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Cum Inflation, Egg Laying, Eggpreg, Emetophilia, M/M, Mpreg, Oviposition, Vomiting, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 11:03:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18119504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keylore/pseuds/keylore
Summary: The Host offers the Southern Talking Spider a place to lay his eggs in.





	Maybe Weird, Maybe Not

The abandoned underground subway station had been silent and uneventful ever since Marshmallow Monk had left to meet with his fate.

”Ya know, it was kind of a shame I had to let the boy go. I wouldn’t have minded havin’ a fresh corpse to lay some deputies in.”

The Host, casually lounging on one of the many couches of the station, turned to look at the giant spider laying in front of him on the ground. ”Well, can’t you lay some now~?” The Host’s finger tapped against the backrest his arm was draped over. Tap-tap-tap. ”You gotta do it anyway, right~?”

Southern Talking Spider indeed had to get some eggs out of his system. He’d had occasional talks about his reproduction cycle with the game show host (both to sate the man’s curiosity and to shut him up). Every now and then his body would cook up a fresh batch of eggs. For some reason they were unable to fully develop and hatch inside him, so he would have to find a safe place to lay them in. Then he would just have to wait. If nothing suitable was available, then fine, he’d keep them inside. It wasn’t an inconvenience.

But sometimes the batches would stockpile. First there was one, then two, third, fourth, fifth... and they were a really bothersome strain on his guts.

Right now he had one of those multibatch problems.

Usually the savior of his insides would show up in the form of a criminal to fill up with eggs, but there hadn’t been any in a while. Well, there was Marshmallow Monk, but he was gone now. And who knows when the next crook would stumble into the station.

”I can’t,” Southern Talking Spider huffed. ”There ain’t any criminals around, and laying them on the floor or the webs is too risky. Folks around here seem to love destroying anythin’ they get their mittens on in their search for clues and items and whatnot.”

”There’s an option,” the Host shifted to lean forward, the couch creaking under him with a low whine. The ever-present crescent grin on his face somehow spread wider; usually a sign of a nasty idea brewing in his head. ”You can use me.”

It took a moment before the spider’s brain was able to process the outrageous words.

”W-wuh-what...?!” Southern Talking Spider sputtered, turning as quickly as his hefty body allowed to prop himself up on a few legs to give a bewildered look to the Host. ”I-I-I...! You—! Are ya outta your damn mind?! I dunno what’s goin’ on in that twisted mind of yours, but this ain’t some kinda kinky sex thing! It’s a matter o’ life and death to my guts, and ya—”

”I didn’t say anything about it being ’kinky sex thing’~” the Host interrupted the spider, holding his hands up. ”It’s a normal thing for you, right~? There’s nothing to get flustered about, so why won’t you let me help you out?”

In that moment, Southern Talking Spider seemed to be more invested in studying the patterns of the ground than looking the Host right in the eye. ”I, well, the thing is,” the spider’s front legs drew nervous circles onto the floor, ”I reckon I might, ya know, tear ya apart. It’s a huge batch after all, ’s not meant for the lively ones to carry. The dead crooks don’t mind havin’ burst insides.”

The Host patted his stomach, still grinning, still amused. ”I can take it.”

”...What’s in it for ya, anyway?”

”Can’t a person help out their friend? You could think of it as a favor. I scratch your back,” the Host clawed at the air with a single hand, ”you’ll scratch mine.”

Southern Talking Spider mulled over the offer. ”So I’d owe ya one?”

”Hmmh. Don’t worry, I won’t ask you for anything... complicated~”

”I...” the weight in his guts was like lead, pressing against his organs in an uncomfortable way. _Take the offer, his insides pleaded. Just take it, ya stubborn mule_. ”...Ah, fine, I’ll accept the deal, ya green creep. Just don’t make it weird, okay?”

”Excellent,” the Host’s hands came together with a loud clap, rubbing against one another in the manner of a sleazy salesman. ”Let’s get started right away... shall we?”

Southern Talking Spider found himself being circled by the Host in an instant. Each step was slow, delicate, as the man hummed and mumbled to himself, eyes never leaving the spider’s form. ”Hm, hmm, hmm... it should work out if we... hmm... yes, let’s do it that way.”

”Wuh and what?” the spider asked.

”I’ll be on bottom, so you can mount me,” the Host replied without batting an eyelid, as if it was the most normal, everyday subject to discuss. Maybe it was for the Host, but the Southern Talking Spider wasn’t sure if he wanted to think about the obscene details of the man’s sex life.

...Wait.

”...Mount ya? You mean—”

The Host snapped his fingers. ”Yep, up the ass, there’s more space to... _host_ your younglings there. I can’t take you into my throat. After all, I use my voice to perform, and should anything happen to it, well...”

Southern Talking Spider knew very well that he was talking absolute bullshit; he’d seen the man recover from lethal injuries before, so why would his throat be an exception? The most likely explanation was that the Host just happened to be a huge pervert who wanted his ovipositor right in the ass.

On any other day he would have brought up this point and raised up a storm before scuttling away from the discussion and the whole situation.

But right now? Right now he wanted the eggs out, and if the Host wanted it that way, then fine.

”...Sure, sure. You wanna take a look at what yer gonna deal with?”

The spider didn’t even bother to wait for the Host’s answer; he rose to his feet, stumbling a little due to the extra ’luggage’ before adopting a steadier posture. The Host’s expression didn’t flicker.

The Host was a tall man, but Southern Talking Spider towered over him with the long legs and massive weight. ’You can do this,’ the spider told himself, ’there’s nuthin’ weird about it’. His crotch was right on the Host’s eye level; a perfect view for what he was about to be shown. The spider spread his back legs a little. The red ovipositor slid out into plain sight inch by inch, coated in a film of clear, viscous fluid. The appendage was tapered, the tip drooling the same substance the organ was covered in.

”Oh my~” the Host licked his lips. ”May I...?”

”Don’ do anythin’ weird.”

Taking the spider’s reply as an affirmative answer, the Host snuck further below the Southern Talking Spider, right to the last pair of legs, out of the arachnid’s sight. One hand wrapped around the tip with ease, but he got thicker the closer the Host got to the base: both hands were needed for that. The spider was shifting in place, shuddering at the sensation of warm hands softly stroking him. The cadavers he’d pushed his ovipositor into in the past had been mostly lukewarm, so this was a welcome change.

”...You better not try jerking me off down th— _eeh_?!”

A long finger had effortlessly wiggled inside the ovipositor thanks to the lubrication and the size of the tip’s opening, fluids spurting out around the intrusion. The Host swirled his digit around to rub at the sensitive walls, giving a curious hum. ”Hmm, there’s nothing in there yet.”

The spider’s legs were close to giving out: for god’s sake, he was used to things going _out_ of the damn thing, not _in_! ”Wh-what’re ya doing! Th-the eggs’ll come later! Get outta there right this instant!”

”Alright~” there was a wet pop when the Host pulled out, and another pop when he sucked his finger clean. _Not bad_. ”I was just curious, pal. So, shall we c—-”

”Less talkin’, more action, ’pal’,” the spider grumbled, still flustered by the Host’s action. _Nosy little creep_.

”Impatient, are we~?” the Host had snuck back into the spider’s view, facing him with a wide grin and no pants.

Hang on. When did he take those off?

All of the Southern Talking Spider’s many eyes were raking up and down the Host’s half-naked figure, simultaneously comprehending what he was seeing, but at the same time not really. The Host had kept everything above the waist on - that was fine. His thighs were thick, leading down to strong calves and big, bare feet. How’d he hide all that under the suit? The spider couldn’t quite comprehend that. Was there much to say about the cock that was soft and green like the rest of him? No, nope, no sir-ee. Nothing.

”See anything you like~?”

Southern Talking Spider’s eyes fixated right on the spot where he presumed the man’s own eyes were. He wasn’t going to look down again. ”Naw, maybe if ya had a couple limbs more, a handful of eyes ’n a lotta more hair on yer body, I might reconsider my opinion.”

The Host burst into a distorted laughter that startled the spider, each loud bark bouncing all over the walls of the station, sounding like they were close but far away at the same time. And then it ended, just like that, and the Host shrugged. ”Tough crowd, but that’s okay. After all, this isn’t a dating program,” he turned his back to the Southern Talking Spider to get down on all fours, knees and hands planted firmly on the rough ground. ”Hop on,” the Host looked over his shoulder, ”I promise I won’t make it weird, or touch myself~”

”I’m no expert on this, but should’t ya, y’know, prepare yerself first?” the spider crawled over to where the man was. His massive body leant over the Host, caging his ’pardner’ between his bent legs. The leaking ovipositor rested against the Host’s ass - _damn_ , the man was lining the tip up with his entrance with one hand.

”No, you’re already slicked up enough for it. Like I said, I can handle it~”

With the way they were right now, he couldn’t see the Host’s face, but he could hear that darn permanent smile in his voice. ”Well, don’ come crying to me if yer insides rip from this,” the spider pushed forward, working in just the tiniest amount of the tip before - _goddamn_ \- he had to stop. There was a big difference between being in a live one, and a dead one, and it was... tarnations, it was unfair. It was unfair of the Host to feel this warm and this snug around him, and it was just the tip.

The whole thing was going to kill him.

”Oh, it’s all inside already? It certainly looked bigger than it feels.”

”N-Nearabout...! Hold yer horses, will ya?” the spider hissed at the teasing man.

Southern Talking Spider had never f— had never had s— had never done this with a live human (maybe the Host wasn’t human but he had humanoid shape), so he wasn’t familiar how their bodies worked while engaged in... well. But he was still sure that it wasn’t normal for someone not to tense even the slightest when they were being penetrated with an organ of his caliber.

Each added inch drew a soft sigh from the Host as the spider sunk deeper into that tight warmth that should be outlawed. Just a little— ah, that’s it. His furry abdomen was pressed flush against the Host when he was fully hilted, and it—

He groaned, allowing his trembling upper body to rest against the Host’s back; the man could take it. Ah... he needed a moment. _This was_... he shifted in place, all eight of his legs trembling just a tad.

This felt far better than laying his eggs into corpses.

...

_’Don’t make it weird now, spidey.’_

The Host tapped a finger against the ground. Normally it was a sign of impatience, but in his case, it was a playful gesture. ”My, my, that’s rather nice. So... when’s the big event~?”

”V-very soon. Have some patience,” the Southern Talking Spider pulled out up to the tip - _god that’s nice_ \- and slammed back all the way in with a single shove. His front legs latched onto the Host’s shoulders for support as he began thrusting into him. The wet sound of his slick-covered ovipositor sliding in and out of the Host was loud and obscene, drowning out the spider’s happy sighs.

Each thrust jostled the Host forward, scraping and scratching his knees and hands against the ground. ”Oh my, if I didn’t—” the Host cut himself off with a pleased noise. ”If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re... _fucking me_ ,” his voice took on an inhuman deep tone at the last two words.

”N-Nah...! Ah’m just... givin’ my tool a little kick to get more of that sticky stuff out. It helps with— _o-oh_! It helps the eggs move better.”

A chuckle. ”So, that ovipositor of yours also doubles as a penis, w—”

Southern Talking Spider’s grip on the Host’s shoulders tightened, making the cloth bunch up. ”I-it doesn’t, you’re making this weird.”

”I’m not the one who has to ejaculate into someone first before laying eggs into them, but... that’s alright~”

”Y-You—” the spider hissed, unable to come up with any other words, too distracted by the pleasant pressure building up in his guts. He’d been splurting his fluids into the Host at steady pace, but the main load was going to be a major strain; if the man was able to handle it, then he’d be able to handle the eggs.

...Probably. Hopefully.

A choked gasp was the only warning he gave to the Host when he hit his climax. He came— _no_ , more like erupted so violently that his thick fluids filled the Host within seconds. With the ovipositor plugging up the man, the hot flood had nowhere else to go except up, rushing through the guts to fountain into the stomach. The Host’s belly was gurgling from the violent splatter of fluids filling it up, forcing it to stretch under the volume of its assailant.

”Ohhhh my,” the Host bowed his head to observe his stomach. It felt a lot, but didn’t look the part; there was just the tiniest bump pressing against the jacket, but not enough to put a strain on the buttons, like he’d just had a big meal. ”So, about those eggs...”

The spider was grinding against the Host, fine hairs rubbing the man’s skin raw at the hips, his legs still shaking from the climax. ”Soon, ya horndog. Don’t be weird about it.”

”There’s that word again,” the Host’s laugh made the contents of his stomach slosh around. ”Why are you so afraid of this being ’weird’?”

”Don’t start with that questionnaire crap again,” the spider felt a contraction somewhere deep inside him, followed by shifting of the eggs; yes please, _finally_. ”...What we’re doing is weird, ain’t it?”

The Host rocked back to meet each thrust and grind of the spider, moaning low without any shame. ”Yet you like it. What makes this weird compared to the other times you’ve laid your batches, hmm~?”

”They’re not alive. I never do them... in the ass, jus’ the throat. I mean... look at us, what do ya see here?”

”Something artists would call symbolic. If we were a painting, maybe we’d symbolise a man being overwhelmed by his fears, maybe this is all about mankind being conquered by nature—”

”Shut it already, I think—” the spider rolled his hips against the Host, more frequent contractions pushing eggs towards the ovipositor. ”...I think they’re gonna come.”

”Well then, fill me with your spawn. Knock me up~”

”Don’t say th— ah...!” a particularly powerful contraction hit him, and it was like a dam had broken down, sending an egg after egg down the twitching ovipositor. Southern Talking spider groaned; he’d missed the stretch and weight of eggs filling up his organ, but it was nothing compared to getting them out, like satisfying an itch. The first egg came to a stop against the Host’s rim, needing help to push through. ”Hope yer ready, because there’s gonna be a lot.”

The Host pushed against the intrusion, feeling the tennis ball-sized sphere straining to slip in. It was firm, but pliable, capable of handling a bit of force without being squashed. ”More than ready~”

Southern Talking Spider rutted against the Host without withdrawing, trying to coax the egg to move further, whining. ’ _Move already, you darn thing_ ,’ he pleaded.

And it did. The contractions hit a steadier pace, and coupled with the pushes of the eggs behind it, the sphere nudged past the rim, drawing a soft ’oh’ from the Host. It continued to the tip where it slipped out with a little ’pop’ to rest among the fluids the spider had pumped into the Host earlier. The Host gave a thougthful hum. The lone egg had very little mass; he couldn’t really feel it past the thick volume of the spider’s cum, but that would change with the arrival of the other ones.

”Thas’ one outta ’I don’t know how many’ dozens,” the spider resumed the thrusts, his middle legs itching to wrap around the Host’s middle-section for stability, but he couldn’t allow it; he could crush him with ease. It could result in a corpse to nurture the eggs in until the Host was revived, but - he wasn’t going to admit it out loud - he wanted to keep him alive, wanted to see him keep up that confident act with his belly distended by his offspring, wanted to know if he’d be embarrassed about having to face an audience in that state.

Maybe he even wanted to watch him give... _no, you’re getting weird, spidey_.

The next few eggs pushed in with ease, brushing against the Host’s prostate as they joined the first egg in the slime. So far, so good. The Host wasn’t showing any reactions besides the occasional hums, pushes against the spider and the questions about the current count of the eggs. _Five, six, seven_... the Host shifted a bit, _eight, nine_... and, a momentary tense of the entire body that even the spider felt when the tenth started pushing up into a curve of the slicked up intestines. Then he relaxed, mumbling ’that’s only the tenth, huh?’ under his breath, his smile still unwavering.

The spider’s hold on the Host’s shoulders tightened as his thrusts grew in power, his swollen abdomen rubbing and smashing against the Host with each slam, forcing the next batch down his sensitive appendage. He couldn’t wait to get rid of the weight, and the thought of getting to put it all into the Host made him twitch, made that pressure start building up again. _Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen_... the heat burning bright in and around him egged him on, dragging more moans and eggs out of him, _fifteen, sixteen, seventeen_...

Number eighteen made the Host take a sharp inhale through the teeth, joining the long line of eggs snaking through the Host’s guts, and it was, oh, it was the push that had sent the very first one so far inside him that it was... _ohh_. The next one - his hands curled into fists from the excitement, dragging sand under the fingernails - the next one would...

Southern Talking Spider tilted his head, sensing the Host’s growing enthusiasm. He had a pretty good guess about the source of it. ”Yer belly’s getting a visitor soon, ain’t it? You better get used to it, because there’s gonna be a lot of them, and I expect ya to be able to take all of ’em,” the spider growled, driving himself into the Host over and over again, momentarily distracted by the want, no, burning need to flip the Host over. To see his eggs bulging through the skin on their way to the belly, ready to make it swell and grow round, hindering the Host’s movement, forcing him to bear his children.

He would’ve loved to turn the Host onto his back, to observe the growth, but it would’ve made the egg laying hard for both of them. A real shame.

Number nineteen forced the first egg into the Host’s stomach, and the Host hadn’t even finished mumbling ’welcome’ before the next four were pushed into the flood of fluids sloshing around his belly. The weight of them was pleasant, warm. The Host himself lost count when the spider’s thrusts sent the eggs rolling around in the fluids like they were caught in a tidal wave. The movement of the eggs were loose, their tossing and turning becoming less frequent with each addition.

”...Twen’ eight,” the spider said when the Host was so packed up there was no more room for the fluid to move in his stomach.

The Host ducked his head again, the corners of his mouth twitching from the constant presses and brushes against his prostate by the eggs entering him. A little whistle blew past his lips when he saw the growth of his stomach, now a notable bump, enough to send the buttons straining to keep the clothing together. _Thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-f—_

”Oh, oh my~!” the Host’s voice melted into static when the bump of the spider’s egg-filled ovipositor nudged just right against his prostate, and that was it. The pressure coiling up inside of him hit its explosive peak, heat and tingling pleasure shooting though his entire body as he came, ribbon after ribbon of green-tinged cum staining the ground. The contractions made him clamp down on the spider, hard, determined to milk him out of the rest he had to offer, needing more.

”Wh-wh-” the spider stuttered, ”Y-ye can’t get yer rocks off right now, yer gonna make me—” _oh no, no, no, he can’t_. F—

Colorful expletives filled the air when the Host’s climax had unintentionally forced the spider to reach his peak, going off like a hose as another flood came spraying from the overworked tip, hot cum rushing up the guts with the entire batch of eggs, combined with the ones had been nesting there. _Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine_... It was too much, too much at once, too much in general. The force and the volume of the latest batch made the stomach gurgle, too violated by the unusual strain put on it, distended, stretched, still growing. Unable to hold on anymore, the buttons of each layer of clothing popped off one by one, scattering across the floor, clothing flying open to give way to the Host’s very notable, very huge stomach.

”Ghrk—!”

The Host made a noise akin to still-playing radio going through a blender before a huge batch of hot spider cum came spewing out of his mouth - still turned to that crescent grin - painting the ground with big puddles of white, the noise of their impact wet and loud. It was of no help to his stomach; all the liquid he’d thrown up was replaced right away, until - _oh, oh that’s nice_ \- the spider finally stopping cumming. The Host swallowed down a lone egg, opening his mouth to—

That was all his body had allowed before it had decided ’ _yai, that’s enough, I’ve had enough_ ’, limbs giving out and going limp.

”H-Hey—!” the spider, barely coming down from his climax, was quick enough to catch the Host before he’d hit the ground, holding the man’s lower body in the air by the legs.

”...”

The Host was slack, but heavy, _oh so heavy_ , having been reduced into a sack of the spider’s thick fluids and eggs. Soft static poured past his lips, the only sign that he was still alive. Darn, that got out of hand, the spider was going to pull out, he only had a handful of eggs left, he could lay those somewhere else—

”I’d rather have all of them in one place,” the Host’s voice piped up, steady, clear and cheerful despite the state of his body. It was like he’d guessed the spider’s intention.

”...Fine.”

 _Fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two, fifty-three... fifty-four_. Finally. He yanked himself out with a quick snap of his hips, the ovipositor slowly receeding back into his body. Before anything could leak out, the Host tightened up; his body couldn’t leave itself gaping. The Host drew a deep breath, and the spider, still holding the man, shifted him around until the game show host was in a better position before allowing himself to slump over, feeling light and sated.

”...Ah,” the Host sat back, legs tucked under the body, leaning forward from the weight of his stomach. He looked down in silence, grabbing at his jacket and shirt, trying to tug them close over his belly; the sides weren’t anywhere near to reaching the top of the bump. Ah, well. He shrugged the ruined articles off, tossing the clothes aside, now fully naked. He wiped a line of cum running down the side of the mouth away with the back of his hand.

”...” Southern Talking Spider’s face was mushed against the ground as he followed the Host’s actions, eyes trailing down his pregnant form, the stomach (filled with _his_ babies) that was so distended it was pooling over the Host’s knees. He watched the man wrap his arms around the bump the best he could, a protective motion, cradling it as he softly cooed over it.

A thought, an awful mental image of the Host doing the same for someone else, carrying the offspring of a stranger entered the spider’s mind. Maybe it was the hormones, but the mere thought made his heart clench, made his features momentarily twist with anger. It was the same thought that led him to crawl over to the Host, flopping onto his side to pull the Host against him, allowing the man to rest.

”Hmm~? What’s on your mind?” the Host watched the spider’s furry leg trace over his stomach, each move as gentle as possible, caressing the visible bumps and outlines of the eggs.

”Eh, ’s nothing,” the spider muttered, unable to bring himself to talk about his thoughts.

The Host’s grin grew wide again. ”Question one: what would you think if I was carrying someone else’s—”

”Shut it—!” Southern Talking Spider hissed, more embarrassed than angry. _Goddamn mind reader_.

The Host tilted his head back, letting it sink into the soft fur. ”...Question two: when the time comes, would you like to watch me give birth~?”

Southern Talking Spider’s leg curved over the stomach, going still. ”...Yeah.”

He didn’t care if it was a weird thing to do.

He was already eagerly awaiting the day.


End file.
